


Schrödinger's Attraction

by misura



Category: FlashForward
Genre: Community: smallfandomfest, M/M, Post-Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-15 16:12:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15416706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: Demetri and Simon discuss dinosaurs, oral sex and biological imperatives.





	Schrödinger's Attraction

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: _Demetri/Simon, Something in the second FlashForward makes things a little awkward when they wake up. Well, awkward for Demetri._

_On his knees, staring up at Simon, who's staring down at him with this mix of desire and, Demetri thinks, implausible as it seems, pure, unadulterated_ frustration _, like Demetri giving him a blow job is the absolute last thing he wants._

_"I hate you," Simon says. "I really do."_

_Demetri laughs. "Trust me, the feeling's mutual."_

"Interesting," Simon says, and it takes Demetri a moment to realize he's here and now, no longer there and then, and then an extra couple of seconds to figure out that this is the exact same room he'll be in, x months from now, with Simon. Again.

There's a saying about that, he thinks. Something about being doomed to repeat history, if you've failed to learn anything from it.

"Whatever, man," he says, looking at the floor and remembering how it felt.

"Oh, I didn't mean the fellating," says Simon. "That's just - " An airy gesture. "Biology. Basic survival instinct on your part. I was referring to the partial entanglement of consciousness. Must be the QED."

Demetri digs up the ring. He remembers not putting it on, wanting to find out what all the fuss was about for himself. His mistake. "Me wanting to - with you is basic survival instinct? How'd you figure that?"

Simon looks annoyed, like Demetri's focusing on the wrong thing here. "You see a big, muscly guy heading for you, you hide behind a bigger, musclier guy, yeah?"

 _I'm an FBI agent. I don't_ hide _behind anyone._ "I guess."

"You guess." Simon sighs. "Fine. So when you see something headed for you that your limited imagination and intelligence can't even begin to comprehend, what do you do?"

"Blow you?" Demetri rolls his eyes. "Right. That sounds logical."

Simon shrugs and turns back to the computer screen. "You want to argue with the science, be my guest. Though I suggest you get a PhD in biology first."

"You don't have a PhD in biology."

"I'm smart," Simon says. "Same thing."

Demetri decides to get himself another beer. Some arguments aren't worth having, and besides, he needs a drink and this is as close as he can get in this place.

Plus, the expression on Simon's face as he turns around and noticed the lack of a second bottle is kind of fun - at least until Demetri realizes it's the sort of petty thing Simon would pull himself.

"So aren't we kind of done here?" he asks.

Simon gives him a look. "You tell me. It's working, by the way."

"What is?" Demetri replies, even though he's pretty sure it's a mistake. Simon's like that: slick and slippery, hard to get a read on from one moment to the next. Easiest to just remember he's an untrustworthy bastard and assume everything he says or does is a lie.

Of course, that rather begs the question of why Demetri's even here in the first place.

"You piquing my interest by performing a semblance of oral sex on that beer bottle," Simon says. "I mean, don't get me wrong, not my usual type - or gender, for that matter, but a mouth is a mouth."

"Keep dreaming." 'Semblance of oral sex', really? Demetri's pretty damn sure all he's been doing is sipping. "Oh, and FYI, I'm straight."

"Janis wasn't, was she?" Simon shrugs. "Didn't seem to stop her. You must have some hidden talents, Agent Noh. Color me intrigued, at least mildly."

Demetri wants to hit him. The only thing stopping him is that with his luck, Simon's probably into that sort of thing - or a good enough actor to pretend to be. "Don't. Don't bring Janis into this."

"Lesbians, eh? Definitely not my type. I mean, don't get me wrong, I understand the attraction to your average heterosexual guy - forbidden fruit, that sort of thing, but honestly, where's the fun in watching when you know you're never going to touch?"

"I'm really not interested in your sexual hang-ups, man," Demetri says.

"Yet. You will be." Simon sounds confident.

"Besides, I'm pretty sure that in my flashforward, you said you hated me. Doesn't sound to me like we were in any kind of relationship."

"So your working theory is - what? By some coincidence, at this one moment, you decided to fellate me?" Simon snorts. "Besides, you seemed experienced. Familiar, even. Trust me, I can tell when someone's inexperienced. It adds a little something to the proceedings, you know. Sloppiness can be kind of a turn-on, if you're lucky. If not, well, it's just uncomfortable for everyone involved."

Demetri grimaces.

Simon smirks. "Don't worry. I'm experienced enough for both of us. In fact, want a demonstration? We can consider it a little quid pro quo."

"Thought I wasn't your type." The crazy thing is: part of Demetri wants to say 'yeah, sure, show me what you've got'. It's probably the after-effects of the flashforward.

"Never stopped me before," says Simon. "See, the thing is, what does that even mean? Having a 'type'?"

"Let me guess: biology."

"Give that man a beer. Oh, and one for me too, while you're at it. Biology. It's nothing but your body, picking up on cues. Used to be it was all about procreation. Now, we pretty much get programmed by the media. I mean, look at me. You gonna trust me to knock over a dinosaur that's trying to eat you?"

Demetri weighs the pros and cons of getting Simon that beer. "Depends. Are you the good, quirky scientist, or the one who wants to make lots of money? Because I've seen the Jurassic Park movies. All three of them. Multiple times, even."

Simon looks longingly at the fridge. It's - what, a ten-second trip? Demetri tries not to grin, then wonders why. "You should know by now what kind of scientist I am."

"The mad kind," Demetri says. "Yeah. Sorry. Doesn't really narrow it down."

"Ian Malcolm," says Simon. "There. Not mad, was he?"

Pretty much useless in the first movie, although Demetri might admit to liking the guy. "So is there something wrong with your legs or something?"

"It's a matter of priorities," Simon says. "Getting a beer just isn't an efficient use of my time."

"But blowing me would be?" Demetri lifts his beer bottle to his lips again before he realizes it's empty.

"Is that a 'no'?" Simon asks, staring at Demetri with what he probably imagines are his bedroom eyes.

"I guess it would be one sure way of getting you to stop talking," Demetri says. He hasn't really thought of it in those terms, mostly because he's not used to thinking of sex that way, as something that can be immensely satisfying if you get it from someone you don't even like - someone who might not like you, either.

His mouth goes a little dry, thinking about it, about Simon, on his knees, Demetri's hands holding his head in place.

"Wow," Simon says. "What's that - you've hit a bit of a dry spell, lately? Well, go on, then. Ask me nicely. I'm an obliging kind of bloke."

"Fuck you, man."

"Yeah, I don't think so. We'll be wanting a bed for that, at least." Simon gets up and then down again, with a fluid grace that makes Demetri want to laugh, because no way, no how that Simon hasn't done this before, and often. 'Not his type', his ass. "So how about a taste, hm?"

The smart thing to do would be to say 'no'. He's already in trouble with Zoey, and that's over something Demetri honestly, genuinely felt to be the right thing to do at the time.

This isn't like that. This just feels like a terrible, horrible, no-good decision he's going to regret for the rest of his life. Whatever he's seen - well, it doesn't even mean anything, does it? He's already proven that, by living long enough to be here today, instead of dead and about to be buried.

On the other hand - 

"I hate you," he tells Simon. "I really do, man."

Simon chuckles, taking off his hat. "That's the spirit. Or, begging your pardon, what was it again? Trust me, the feeling's mutual? Ah, close enough."


End file.
